


Under Red Leathers

by Nununununu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Biting, Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Don't copy to another site, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Rare Pairings, Rimming, Rough Sex, Trapped in Spaceship Escape Pod Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: “Maybe you could do that dance Thor was telling everyone about that one time,” Kraglin’s musing now, side-eyeing Steve like he’s weighing up the entertainment value he could get out of that, and Steve opens his mouth to point out he wasn’t the one dancing back during the war – that had been the USO showgirls, all far more musically coordinated than he’s ever had a hope of being.“Or we could have sex,” His brain provides instead, and there must be something in the recycled water, because the suggestion just pops on right out of his mouth.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Kraglin Obfonteri
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10
Collections: Writing Rainbow Red





	Under Red Leathers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionessvalenti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/gifts).



> Hope you like this treat, Lioness :)

Kraglin is hunched on the floor of the escape pod in a position that seriously throws the long-term health of his spine into doubt, alternating between scratching the stubble growing out on his head beneath the red crest and the upper left cheek of his arse. Given the thin metal walls of the pod and the immense vacuum of space beyond them, Steve’s already had to confiscate the arrow after one near miss too many, and the other man’s obviously hankering after something to do with himself.

Given they’ve worked out a deal with a small time trading ship that’s on course to pick them up in a couple of hours’ time – namely that Kraglin will gleefully threaten to do unmentionable things to the captain of a rival trading vessel while Steve looks sternly on from behind him and stands ready to provide extra muscle if needs be – Steve hasn’t stopped Kraglin from decimating the contents of the escape pod’s surprisingly plentiful supply of dessert packets, experimentally drinking the recycled water and pronouncing it disgusting, peeing into the tiny toilet over to one side and launching into a tale about a time back when he and Yondu were trapped in a far more perilous situation than this and ending up drinking what Kraglin cheerfully considered to be far worse than piss –

And wriggling halfway out of his grimy red leathers to itch along the length of his knobbly spine, revealing a lattice of old welts and scars and faded tattoos that look – as one might generously put it – self-done while drunk.

Steve’s mouth is parched with desire for him.

He’s half-hard in his uniform pants; has been since the time Kraglin first stalked onto the pod like he’d freshly stolen it and dropped a hand thoughtlessly to cup his balls.

“Maybe you could do that dance Thor was telling everyone about that one time,” Kraglin’s musing now, side-eyeing Steve like he’s weighing up the entertainment value he could get out of that, and Steve opens his mouth to point out he wasn’t the one dancing back during the war – that had been the USO showgirls, all far more musically coordinated than he’s ever had a hope of being.

“Or we could have sex,” His brain provides instead, and there must be something in the recycled water, because the suggestion just pops on right out of his mouth.

It’s not something Captain America would say. It’s not something _Steve_ would say normally either, in honesty, but Kraglin signally doesn’t look at all shocked or appalled.

“Now that’s an idea,” Instead he perks right up, crawls over to plop himself down on Steve’s lap, straddling him, and bites Steve on the ear.

“Uh –” Steve’s hands are somewhat faster than the rest of him to get with the program, already flying up to clamp on the other man’s wiry hips. Shifting his feet on the floor of the pod for better leverage, he doesn’t put up more than a brief token battle when his hips next seek to jerk up and Kraglin snickers and grinds down in response, and then that’s it, they’re going for it.

“Oh – oh –” Steve can’t help but seek a kiss, has always been a romantic like that, groaning wholeheartedly when one of Kraglin’s jagged teeth snags on the corner of his lip. Kraglin tastes of cheap alcohol and even cheaper cigarettes and all the sugar in the desserts he consumed earlier, and it doesn’t occur to Steve to consider the fact he’s never seen the other man brush his teeth, just licks into Kraglin’s mouth deeper, a startled laugh punched out of him when Kraglin next bites his tongue.

“Come on, Cap – get those pyjamas of yours off, will you?” Kraglin’s all hands, fingers everywhere, pulling and plucking with open enthusiasm at Steve’s costume, reaching down to give Steve’s erection a squeeze strong enough to shove a grunt out of his throat.

“It’s – it’s my uniform, not my pyjamas,” Steve can only huff a laugh at the other man’s consequent surprised ‘huh’. He aids Kraglin in peeling himself out of it, breath catching when greasy fingers immediately pinch at his nipples, grabbing one of Kraglin’s hands so he can press a kiss to the other man’s wrist before licking his palm.

Nudging Kraglin into worming his own hand down the front of his red leathers is one of the hottest things Steve’s ever done. Watching him swear and writhe his way out of said leathers before giving his flushed slender dick a few eager pumps is even hotter. Steve is sweating and panting with it.

What little self-control he has left fast eroding, he rolls Kraglin over onto his back the moment the man’s naked, tucks those long lanky legs up over his elbows, and bends Kraglin almost in half so Steve can access his ass.

“Fuck yeah!” Kraglin’s shout of appreciation as Steve’s tongue joyfully finds his hole echoes off the metal walls of the pod. Encouraged, Steve bites that troublesome arse cheek, buries his face between it and the other, and delights in the variety of noises Kraglin then proceeds to make as Steve liberally applies his tongue and lips, nipping and kissing and sucking and drooling in want.

He’s so involved in what he’s doing it takes Kraglin giving several good yanks at his hair before realising the other man’s howling, coming messily all over his belly in great hot splurts.

“Oh my god –” Steve’s not one for swearing, but this feels somehow appropriate to whisper. His own dick throbs in sympathy, leaking freely onto the floor. It then leaks even further into Kraglin’s hot slick mouth when the other man recovers enough to roll over and on top of him.

Kraglin sucks Steve down like he can’t get enough of him, like he’s trying to cram as much of Steve’s cock as he can in his mouth, and he’s biting a little in a way Steve can’t get enough of, teeth scraping against the underside of his shaft in a way that should be alarming but just makes Steve moan.

The head of his cock bumps the back of Kraglin’s throat and Steve comes and comes and comes with a shout.

They lie tangled together limp on the floor, gasping, for some time afterwards.

“Well, that was something all right,” Kraglin pronounces eventually, while Steve’s still trying to gather his wits, “Now how about that dance you promised me.”

Steve thinks about dancing naked to remembered music in front of him, thinks about how he could maybe coax Kraglin into whistling a tune _sans_ arrow.

Thinks about how he could maybe convince Kraglin into dancing with him.

“You know what,” Steve hefts himself upwards, grabbing for a bottle of recycled water and tossing it over to Kraglin heedless of the face the other man makes, “I might just give it a go.”


End file.
